The Opposite of Paradise
by DontKillMyVibe
Summary: New chapter is up (October 18th, 2015)! Naive, naive little Sammy. She has to be careful what she wishes for. / Follow Sammy as she travels around to her friends, observing the effect she's had on them all these years! R&R.
1. Chapter 1

"I'm home!" I whisper-sang as I snuck into the apartment. I threw my backpack onto the couch and was just about to give Grams a hello hug when I noticed my mother sitting at the table.

A plastic smile stretched across her face, and she nodded primly. "Samantha," she said.

I shot her an equally phony grimace-grin. "Hello, mother."

At that moment, Grams walked out of the kitchen with a tray of iced tea. She looked from mother to me expectantly, as if she knew what was going to happen. It made me nervous, seeing Grams like that. I turned back to Lady Lana.

"What is it?"

"I just dropped by to...check up on you. Make sure you're okay."

I cocked my head at her and raised my eyebrows. We both knew that was not the reason why. Lana, realizing that no one in the room was buying her story, let out a large breath of air, and deflated quickly.

"Warren has been telling me that you've been attacking Heather at school."

I practically choked on my own spit as I barked a laugh. "That's what she told you?" I said.

Lana was clearly upset that I had laughed at what she took apparently very seriously. "Yes, Samantha, actually, that _is_ what she told me! Now, I know you two don't get along, but physical violence is not the answer!"

I laughed again. It drove her nuts. "The only reason you don't want me to get in fights is because you think I'll chip a nail! Heather _jabbed_ me in the ass with a pin!"

But of course, she wouldn't listen. "I'm very concerned, Samantha, especially since your behavior has been putting unnecessary stress on Warren! That's why I've decided to - "

I blew through her. "She's a bully! Can't you see? She puts on the waterworks for the adults and nobody can tell that she's _evil_!"

"Samantha, you let me finish! Your actions have just become more and more brash, and my heart simply can't bear the worry! I've signed you up for therapy to help sort out your issues."

I stopped. "What?"

"Yes. I think a psychologist can help us understand your motivations."

"What is this - you...you think I have a _mental disorder_? Because I punched back a person for stabbing me in the ass?"

Lana didn't respond to my question. Instead, without even glancing at me, she sauntered out of the room, "Your first session starts in twenty minutes. Get in the Jeep."

* * *

My psychologist, Jane Something-or-other, sat opposite me in a cramped room. The light above us barely flickered. I could hear myself breathing. We both shifted in our seats.

"So, Samantha - " she began, looking down at her clipboard.

"Sammy," I corrected her, looking out the window.

"Sammy," she repeated, marking something down. "Your mother tells me that you have troubling adjusting to new situations?"

I snorted. I couldn't help it. "Yeah, maybe a little," I shook my head. The psychologist circled something, which I assumed was a YES.

I wasn't about to let her distort my answers. I asked, "But, I mean, if your mother dumped you one day to go be an actress, wouldn't you?"

My abruptness kept her quiet for at least another minute. All I could hear was her furious scribbling on her stupid clipboard. We haven't even really discussed anything yet. What could she possibly be writing?

Finally, she emerged from her concentration. "Do you ever feel unavoidable impulses to...harm anyone else?"

I knew she was talking about Heather. I tucked my knees under my legs and took a deep breath, "Okay, I don't know how much she's told you, but I promise I'm not crazy. All my actions at school can totally be justified, if you'll just hear me out."

I saw her write in the note section, "Thinks violence can be justified." My hands clenched into fists.

She wasn't going to listen to me. Nobody's going to listen to me. This Jane is going to twist everything I say and make it seem like I'm insane or something. Then, she's going to diagnose me with a mental illness and get paid seven times as much.

I got mad. Well, as long as she's going to diagnose me with something bogus, I might as well have fun with it.

"Yeah," I said, my eyes widening slightly, "come to think of it, I do. Want to hurt people, I mean. All the time."

Jane looked up at me quickly, and her hand paused. I had her attention. "Sometimes, I have this fantasy, you know? When I grow up and I'm rich and famous just like my mother, I'll purchase every single lottery ticket, so I'm guaranteed to win, you know?" I dragged out the last syllable in every sentence deliberately. My eyes widened to perfect circles. I hoped I was creeping the shit out of her.

My psychologist sat rapt, unblinking. Her face was slightly contorted. She was curious and weirded out at the same time. I continued, "And with all that dough, I'll be able to buy up all KFC restaurants. Kentucky Fried Chicken? Yeah, them. Every last one. And then with all of THAT money I'll buy the United States government. Yeah. And then I'll remove every last mace, slingshot, and bow and arrow from our weapons arsenal and slay anyone who...jabs my left ass cheek with a pin. Finally, I'll be the last human alive. And I'll live out the rest of my days on my lifetime supply of Perfectly. Fried. Chicken."

I licked my lips. Then I walked out of the room.

* * *

I headed towards the lobby, to get the hell out of there, but my mom was sitting in the armchair adjacent to the door, reading Cosmopolitan. There was no way I could sneak out without her seeing me. My appointment was only supposed to last another ten minutes, though, so I figured I would wait in the hallway until then.

I stooped down at the water fountain, and when I came up, something caught the corner of my eye. I shifted ninety degrees to the left, and jumped back slightly from shock. A man that I hadn't seen before was next to me in the hallway. I hadn't seen him come in.

He was small for a full grown man, I guessed. He was around 5'3'', which was only an inch taller than I was, with a red, curly head of hair and beard.

I nodded to be polite, and stepped out of the way so he could get a drink. He took a step for the fountain.

"Are you okay?" he said finally, after he had taken a long drink.

"How could you tell?" I joked feebly. Resentment was written all over my face.

He stick out his hand, and I shook it. "I'm Patrick O'Leary. I'm the custodian around here." I shook his hand and introduced myself as Sammy.

He pointed to my bimbo psychologist's office door. "How brutal was it in there? Nobody comes out of that woman's treatment without being seriously scarred for life."

I laughed. "Jane? Oh, nah. I could tell she really cared about my problems and not just the paycheck that my mom's writing her."

The man rolled his eyes, "Tell me about it. I don't even know how that lady cheated her way to a psychology degree. _If_ she even has one. So why are you here?"

"My mom signed me up for this. No one will listen to me, so she thinks I have a brain disorder or whatever."

"Really? That stinks."

"Yeah, you're telling me. She dumped me here and expects me not to hate her? Dang. You know, sometimes I wish she actually wanted to take care of me."

The man behind me cocked his head and turned to me really slowly. "What did you say?"

I was slightly bewildered, but I took it that he had a hearing problem or something. "I wish my mom had wanted to raise me as a kid. Like, not be ashamed of me. Or ever want to move away to stupid Hollywood."

The man stiffened, but let out a huge sigh. Under his breath, I thought I caught him muttering, "As you wish."

My nose crinkled in confusion, but the floor suddenly seemed to get uneven and I lost my balance. In an attempt to stabilize myself, I tripped over my own shoelace. My head suddenly seemed to collapse under the pressure of a massive headache. I clamped my hands over my ears in a crouched position. My eyes squeezed shut. Vibrational waves seemed to be coursing through my body. The world was expanding and contracting around me.

It subsided suddenly and I stood up. Looking down, I didn't recognize the cashmere, green sweater that I now wore. Wasn't I wearing my beat-up softball hoodie just a few minutes ago?

Patrick was standing over me, waiting for me to stand up. "What was that?" I asked, rubbing my head. Why hadn't he been crouched on the ground?

Patrick grinned. "Congratulations, Sammy. You did it."

Confusion wrinkled my features. "Um, sorry, what exactly did I do?"

"You got your wish." he said in a matter-of-fact-tone.

"What wish?"

"When Lady Lana gave birth to you fourteen years ago, she kept you and raised you lovingly."

My mouth opened before I could filter my words. "You must be delusional because that's actually the opposite of the truth." Right after I said it though, I grew quiet. It occurred to me that I had never mentioned my mom's name to him. Who _was _this guy?

Patrick smiled a secretive half-smile. I didn't like the look of it. "Not anymore. Again, you got your wish. Lady Lana loves you. And everything's different."

My head felt woozy. I suddenly felt like I weighed three pounds. Right before I blacked out, I remember one word repeating over and over through my head.

_Crap._

* * *

**A/N: Ooh, Sammy should be careful what she wishes for! I'm enjoying my Spring Break right now, and so I can write more for you guys! Yay! Anyway, I'm really excited about this story. I'm probably going to focus each chapter on a certain secondary character in the series. Sammy's going to take turns with each person, seeing how she's affected their lives and what they would be up to if they had never met her. **

**I'm glad to be back after my brief hiatus. School's been rough, and I'm starved for your opinions. Comment below? :)**

**x,  
DKMV**


	2. Chapter 2

I woke up with a massive headache, again, in a bed that I had never seen before. Immediately, I was wide awake. Where was I?

"Sammy!"

A voice sang out from just outside my door. Lady Lana's head popped in a few seconds later.

"Oh great, you're already awake. Time to get up, hon," she smiled and before I could get words to form in my mouth, her face disappeared and the door closed.

In a trance I peeled back my bedsheets and walked to a foreign closet. I needed to get ready and get down to the therapist's office. Quickly. Maybe that leprechaun of a human Patrick O'Leary was still there and could explain what the hell was going on. Was this some sort of sadist psychological experiment? An elaborate ploy to get inside my head and make me start appreciating my mother?

Whatever this was, I decided to play along right then. No way were they getting the satisfaction of my mental breakdown or something.

I chose the least regrettable out of the ridiculous, flashy outfits in 'my' new closet and started down the stairs. I entered the kitchen, where Lady Lana was standing with her back to me, tending to something on the stove.

She turned around as I sat down tentatively at the table. In her hands was a plate of pancakes and scrambled eggs. I didn't pay too much attention to them, assuming she had made them for herself, until she set the steaming dish down in front of me.

I looked up at her incredulously. "This is for me?"

She smiled and wrinkled her brow slightly. "For you," she repeated, as if she was confused why I would ask.

"Just to make Monday morning a little easier," she continued, settling down in her seat with a Greek yogurt. She took out a sleek phone and began typing on it.

I nodded in acceptance, pushing around the food on my plate. My mouth was watering. Slowly, I took a bite of a pancake. It was delicious, better than anything my mother had ever whipped up in the kitchen.

"Thanks," I mumbled.

Lady Lana had said it was Monday morning, I mentally reviewed. "So I have school today?" I asked.

Lady Lana checked her watch. "Yes, you do, hon. Oh! It's already 7:40. I need to be at the office in half an hour. You better hurry up and finish."

"It'll only take me fifteen minutes to walk there myself," I quickly lied, hoping that my guess was somewhat accurate. I needed her to get out of this house so that I could find the therapist building.

Lady Lana glanced at me sideways. "You're funny, Sammy. We're driving there like usual."

She pushed a strand of my hair behind her ear. "You wouldn't want to start walking. It's a dangerous way. All those homeless people and shady store owners. You wouldn't want to get caught up in that business, would you?"

She continued to stare at me, so I shook my head and lowered my eyes to my breakfast. She regressed back to her phone.

* * *

I picked up my backpack next to the door, walked out, and got into Lady Lana's Toyota Prius that I had never seen before. From there, the ride took seven minutes to arrive at Santa Martina High, looking thankfully exactly how I had remembered it. Old gum still littered the sidewalk leading up to the school's front gate, and a steady stream of students were walking in from all angles of the campus. I got out of the car and Lady Lana drove off, leaving me alone.

It occurred to me that I would have no way to get to the therapist's office from here. I looked toward the school, and decided to get a better gage of my surroundings by surviving a day in a place already familiar to me. I had no idea even if my classes were still the same. I stopped at a bench right in front and opened my backpack, searching for a clue as to what my schedule was like. School started in five minutes.

I pulled out my planner, where my schedule was printed out in neat handwriting. _Sammy Keyes, junior._ I breathed a sigh of relief; it was the exact same order of classes that I had previously. I gathered my bag and began to walk toward to my first period class, Spanish. I remembered that I shared that class with one of my best friends Dot DeVries. She would help me make sense of this all.

I entered and quickly scanned the room, searching for my softball teammate.

She was sitting in the back corner of the room, wearing a black sweater with the hood pulled up. She had used foundation to try and cover the identifying beauty mark on her cheek that had earned her the nickname Dot, but I could still see it faintly. I sat down next to her.

"The WEIRDEST thing is happening to me," I heaved. Dot stared back at me with a bewildered expression.

The expression didn't say, "Omg what is it, tell me more" like I was used to her doing. Her face more so begged the question, "Why the hell are you talking to me." I awkwardly turned back away from her to face the board.

"Okay, clase," Senora Rey said, moving to the front of the room, "get out your _tarea_ and find a partner to correct it."

Hayley, a girl I knew of but never really talked to, plopped down in front of me. She casually threw her homework onto my desk to trade.

"Sorry, I'm with Dot," I told her.

Her eyes flew up to me, taken aback. At first, I think she thought I was joking. She stared at me, then looked at Dot, and then trailed back to focus on me again. "Ha ha," she said humorlessly, grabbing my paper anyway and switching it with hers.

Dot didn't have anyone to trade with her. I took Hayley's paper that was now on my desk and exchanged it with Dot's, so we were a three-way group.

Dot kept to herself, silently marking up Hayley's homework. Even after we traded back papers, she didn't say a word the entire class.

Soon, the bell rang, and Dot packed her stuff and slipped out of the classroom almost instantaneously. I was left for a few seconds staring at her empty desk.

I was walking out the door when Hayley caught up with me. She hit my shoulder with the back of her hand to slow me down. "Why'd you pair with _Dot_ today?"

_Because I like her 400 times more than you_...? I thought, but I kept my mouth shut.

"Why wouldn't I?" I finally settled on articulating.

Hayley's brow wrinkled. "Because she acts like she hates every person on the planet, maybe? Because she has no friends? You've literally _never_ talked to her before."

I shrugged.

Hayley sensed my distance. Just to assuage me, she said, "I guess it's cool that you're talking to her, though. Like, giving her a friend."

Her voice dropped, and she continued, "Honestly, I feel really bad. People are always making fun of her."

My stomach sank. Everyone had used to love Dot. "Really?"

Hayley rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Marissa and her little cronies are always snarking about her 'skin condition' or whatever."

My ears perked up. For the first time, Hayley had my full attention. "Marissa? Marissa who?"

Hayley regarded me strangely for the umpteenth time that day. "Marissa McKenze. The only Marissa on campus?"

_Holy crap_, I thought. My heart lurched as I thought about Marissa, my best friend (could I still call her that?) bullying my other friend. I needed to see her. Talk to her.

I was so busy thinking about where to find her that I didn't notice someone opening his bottom locker right in front of me. My left leg got too close and _BANG_, my knee scraped against the edge of the sharp grate.

"_Shit__,_" I jerked immediately, folding in at my waist to grab my joint. Half a second later, a freshman emerged from behind the locker door, muttering his sorry. Hayley stooped down next to me, inspecting my knee.

"Sammy, hold still, don't infect it! You're bleeding, here, let's go to the Health Room."

She put my arm around her shoulder and we limped toward the nurse's office.

"Jesus, are you okay?" Hayley asked as we walked. "You're all off in space today. How much sleep did you get last night?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I winced.

We made it to the Health Room, and Hayley sat me down in the chair. The bell rang, signaling the start of second period, but instead of going to class Hayley went up to the desk.

"My friend scraped her knee, could we have some Neosporin and a bandaid?"

The woman stood up slightly to examine me from over the desk. "Ouch, that looks painful. I'll let the nurse have a look in a second. Students aren't allowed to use our medicine themselves."

Hayley gave the woman a tight-lipped smile but didn't comment further. She walked back to me and plopped down in the seat next to me. The door opened next to us.

A boy, an upperclassman judging from his height and build, walked in with his back to us. My gut sensed a pang of recognition before my brain did. There was something about the kid's hair, his broad shoulders, his gait...

He approached the front desk. "Hi, I'm here to pick up meds."

The school had always made the students turn in any medication they used to the office. When the kids needed it, they had to come and take it under the supervision of the nurse, for health liability and whatnot.

"Sure. Name, please?" The receptionist clicked around on her computer.

"Acosta. Casey Acosta."

I inhaled sharply.

The receptionist retrieved a plastic bag from a locked cabinet. Unzipping the bag, she extracted a bottle of pills.

"Follow me," she said, and Casey followed her into one of the back rooms.

"What's Casey doing here?" I whispered to Hayley.

Hayley leaned closer, "Mary told me that he's, like, a manic depressive. He needs to take a hella number of pills every day for it, and then also for his anxiety I heard."

She shrugged. "He's co-captain of the football team, for Christ's sake, and so fucking privileged. How can he be sad when he has, like, everything he wants?"

I snapped, almost too quickly, "Just because he's co-captain of the football team doesn't mean he's not allowed to be sad."

"Well, obviously, but it still sucks, you know?"

Hayley looked at me strangely, but shrugged it off.

Even though my brain was warning me against it, my mouth continued talking, "You don't know anything about him. He could have a lot of shit he has to deal with at home, for all you know."

Her eyes widened as the words "Ooh, family issues. That could totally be it. Especially with his whore of a sister and all."

"Heather?" I repeated back, trying to egg her on. I knew Heather was bad, but _whore_ sounded a little harsh.

"Yeah, I'm not even exaggerating. Krista hangs out with Heather all the time, and she told me that Heather slept with Leland Moss for like, weed or something."

_What the hell? _My eyebrows shot up and I gasped. This was radical, even for her. And I knew Casey's family situation was far from stable, but he was like a rock. Nothing could crack him. He never let himself be pushed over that ledge into darkness. Why now? What had changed here to make him like this?

The nurse finally came bustling out of the back room, a bandaid and antiseptic in her hand. Once Hayley noticed her, she hugged me goodbye and walked out toward her next class. The nurse located me across the reception room and walked over, inspecting my ripped skin.

Once she was done expertly patching me up, she stood up. "All right," she said, "you'll be good as new in a week. I'll get you your note to clear you back to class."

She scribbled something on a Post-It and then handed it to me. I tried to stall by tying my shoe just to wait for Casey, but even with my drawn-out attempts he wouldn't emerge from the back room.

I headed out the door, except I had no intention of walking to my next period. Disposing of my note in the nearest trash can, I raced down the hall to the front entrance of the school.

I pulled out Google Maps from the phone I kept in my back pocket (Lady Lana had apparently provided me with one). I typed in Smalls' Therapy Offices.

* * *

**A/N: Hello everyone still faithfully checking this site! I have had the craziest summer and start of junior year - I can't believe it. I'm so exhausted all the time, oh my goodness, that I fall asleep before I can crank out these chapters on the weekend (so I apologize in advance for any typos or awkward syntax in this chapter)! It's weird; I had wayyyy more stamina for late nights in freshman and sophomore year than I do now. Where's that willpower that comes with age that I'm supposed to have? Gah. **

**Thanks for reading. You guys are the reason I have the motivation to get things done. How have you guys been, with school and other stuff lately? Let me knoww, I've missed writing for this community! **

**X,**

**DKMV**


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